


Well, Gee, Guys!

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [7]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Just what is it with Andrew and all the animals??





	Well, Gee, Guys!

"He won't eat much, guys, really! I can forage for him when we head out on a job, just a couple of handsful; it won't slow me down, I promise! And I can get the clippings from Klinks' flower bed and some of those slugs and grubs too."

The men in Barracks 2 looked at the white duck squatting in the middle of the floor, looking back at them appraisingly. "No, Andrew."

"But . . ." 

A chorus from a number of throats sounded loud and clear, "NO, Andrew."

Carter sighed and let his shoulders slump, "ooo-kay. Come on, Reginald, let's get you back to Mr. Gunters' farm." They watched as the wiry young man made his way down into the tunnel, duck carried gently under his arm.

Hogan shook his head in mild amusement, "someone follow along, make sure he gets back okay, without the duck or anything else he might come across," looking directly at their British Corporal.

Newkirk heaved an irritated sigh, "guess that means me. Though why I always seem to be the one following along making sure 'e don't come a cropper, I surely don't know."

He was still complaining as he made his way down the ladder under the trick bunk, hiding that grin of amusement til the entrance closed behind him. He caught up with Carter before the young man got to the ladder leading up to the tree stump, placing a companionable arm over Carter's shoulder, "come along then, Andrew. Let's get, what did you say, Reginald, back to 'is pen; likely there's all kinds a lady ducks mourning 'is absence, you know. Bad enough we gotta do without with this bleedin' war, no sense them 'aving to suffer to," and Carter sighed again, but nodded and they carefully made their way back to the farmer's poultry pen and placed a slightly bewildered white duck back inside. They watched as the bevy of female ducks made a fuss over their missing boy.

***

"She won't take up much room, guys; see, she's just a little thing," his finger tracing the length of the small coils.

The voices were loud in their firm, even slightly panicked response, "NO, ANDREW!"

Those innocent brown eyes were wide, puzzled. "But she can eat the cockroaches and stuff like that! And maybe she can even help distract Schultze sometimes!" Even the intriguing thought of the elderly overweight German Sergeant confronting the small green reptile wasn't enough to sway the men of Barracks 2 from their indisposition to sharing their rough quarters with 'Jilly', as Sergeant Andrew Carter had introduced her. Though how he knew it was a she, no one knew and didn't even bother to ask.

"Carter," came sternly from Colonel Hogan, "out. Now!"

Carter sighed sadly; a snake wasn't a puppy or kitten or anything like that, but he DID miss having a pet. "And Newkirk doesn't really count, not exactly anyway," he muttered to himself, with a little giggle. Those close enough to catch the words just shook their heads; they couldn't make any sense of that comment at all!

***

"Andrew, I don't think Felix will appreciate 'orace, you know. Bats eat mice and such, along with insects." Actually, Newkirk wasn't all sure that was true, especially with 'Horace' being a rather petite bat, but it was certainly worth a try. Newkirk was trying a different approach, the others the guys had put forth not having as much impact as they'd like. Well, Carter was right in that 'Horace' would be perfectly happy staying down in the tunnels, and there certainly were enough insects down there to give him a varied diet. But the look on Kinch's face at the thought of the small brown bat flapping around while he was trying to work the radio, well, it was obvious what the Sergeant thought of that notion. "And w'at with their 'earing and all, I doubt the radio transmissions would be good for 'is ears. Might even scramble 'is poor little brain," trying for sincere sympathy now, suppressing the shudder the hairy little creature gave him as it stared at him with those beady little eyes. Somehow Newkirk just knew the bat knew he was trying to talk the nice human out of giving him a cushy home and was plotting revenge!

***

And so it went - the fat dormouse, the hedgehog, there had even been a badger, though even Carter had realized that last might be a bit much to handle after it almost took Newkirk's fingers off. Newkirk scolded almost as ferociously as that furry animal, "w'at's next, Andrew, a bleedin' wild boar?? I know we're told about the 'azzards of war, but losing a 'and to some evil-eyed, striped-faced son of Satan was never mentioned, not that I can recall. NO, Andrew!!"

***

They sat watching that bunk with its silent occupant, while Hogan fumed at having one of his team out of commission over something so stupid. "I can't believe it! He gets hit by one of the convoy trucks trying to save a dog?? Didn't he think about what would happen if the Krauts had seen him?? Sometimes I just wonder about Carter! You're going to have to watch him more carefully from now on; I don't want a repeat of this!"

The others just nodded, with LeBeau offering, "oui, mon colonel, we will do that; but the driver, he was so busy trying to avoid the dog, he never noticed Carter at all, even when the truck bumped him."

It was probably lucky it was late and the only light was from the shaded battery lantern; somehow Kinch didn't think Hogan would have appreciated the looks he was getting from either the Frenchman OR from Newkirk. He looked back at Carter, "Wilson says he's gonna be okay, just knocked out for awhile," he offered to no one in particular.

"Well, keep a watch on him," Hogan sighed and went back into his quarters, closing the door behind him.

Newkirk volunteered for first shift at watching, "not like I'm gonna be able to sleep any time soon anyway. Bout gave me a 'eart attack, 'e did, dashing out like that!" 

He woke to the sound of a quiet voice reassuring the injured man, "well, acourse 'e did, Andrew. Was no call for you to go getting yourself all bunged up! Little guy was off and 'eaded for 'ome last I saw 'im, already thinking about a good meal and a warm bed and someone to pat 'im and scold 'im for taking off on 'is own. No need to worry about 'im! Snug right where 'e belongs by now, 'e is."

Kinch looked over at LeBeau's bunk, to see the little Frenchman sitting up, listening. Kinch caught LeBeau's eye, tilting his head in question. LeBeau shook his head sadly, remembering that mangled little blood-stained body in the middle of the street, and Kinch knew none of what Newkirk was saying was true. Maybe. He remembered asking his mother at an early age whether dogs went to heaven and getting her firm, "well, of course they do, Jamie." His dad had scolded her for 'telling the boy stories," and he remembered his mother scolding him right back. "Boys sometimes go to heaven, and what's a boy without his dog, you tell me that. I can't imagine God would be so cruel as not to allow that," and his father had just shook his head, but didn't argue the point either. Kinch thought now, {"maybe heaven for a dog is a good meal and a warm bed and someone to pat him,"} and realized maybe Newkirk hadn't been lying after all. 

"Still, I wish I could have brought him back to camp with us."

"I know, Andrew, but this is no place for a dog; you know that," and Kinch suppressed a hmmph of agreement, glancing around at the rude wooden building they were currently calling home. The tall Englishman continued, his voice quiet, comforting, "don't you worry, Andrew. One a these days, you'll end up in a place where you can 'ave all the four-legged ones, even the two-legged ones, around that you've a mind to." His voice got slower, softer, "dogs, cats, ducks, chickens, cows, 'orses . . ."

Andrew's voice answered equally soft and slow, "when I go to heaven, I know." And it wouldn't have been surprising if a certain dampness touched more than one set of eyes in the room. Then he continued, "And sheep and turkeys and geese. She said she has geese too, didn't she, Peter?"

There was a stunned silence, and Newkirk's voice was choked now, tight, as he answered, "no, I don't think she mentioned geese, Andrew. Turkeys, I know she 'as turkeys. Would you like that?"

"Us going to Haven together? Sure. I can't think of anything I'd like better. You think maybe we can, Peter, after the war, I mean?"

There was a pause, then a hushed, "you know, Andrew, I can't think of anything I'd like better myself. Let's just plan on that, shall we? Getting through this bleedin war and 'eading off to 'aven and all those animals you like so well."

A deep sigh of contentment, "Yeah, you and me and all the animals. And Caeide, of course. That'd be real good," and the young Sergeant drifted back into a natural sleep. Newkirk sat on the edge of Carter's bunk for a long time, one hand on the young man's shoulder, and before he left to return to his own bunk, Kinch and LeBeau heard just a tiny whisper, "yeah, Andrew, that'd be real good, real good."


End file.
